


Electricity

by jinkazama



Category: Tekken
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-05
Updated: 2013-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:52:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2030928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinkazama/pseuds/jinkazama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin Kazama takes control of the Mishima Zaibatsu after the fifth tournament. Tekken Force Captain Lars Alexandersson takes the chance to get to know the mysterious young CEO who shuts the world out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Electricity

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously set before the rebellion. I thought of this story after thinking about their relationship and their interactions in the game. I also wanted to explore (though it's really just touched on here) the fact that both Jin and Lars (at the end of BR anyway) are widely considered to be good guys by the fandom, despite the fact they have both done terrible things in service of Jin's "greater good". So I thought that would be common ground these characters would share, even if Lars doesn't understand Jin's intentions for a long time.

Captain Lars Alexandersson waited outside Jin Kazama’s office for the CEO of the Mishima Zaibatsu.

Never able to sit still, he was pacing up and down the short corridor, wearing holes in the thick carpet. Jin’s secretary was eyeing him with delicate irritation, but she didn’t dare to ask him to sit again. After all, it wasn’t Lars’s fault that Jin was late for their meeting.

Now he was looking at the pictures that adorned the walls. Every time he came up here he found himself drawn to them, unable to avoid looking at them. The Zaibatsu had changed CEOs several times in acrimonious circumstances, yet the pictures remained.

Here was Jinpachi Mishima, the founder of the company, with a proud face, resplendent in his formal hakama and kimono. His grandfather. There were many troubling rumours about him, as there were about all the CEOs of the Zaibatsu, and Lars was never sure which to believe. Certainly the rumours about Jinpachi Mishima were among the more outlandish stories in circulation. The steely gaze seemed to follow Lars as he passed on to the next photo. Heihachi Mishima was photographed in a dark suit, and his expression was scornful. His dark hair was styled into two spikes, and he tilted his head towards the photographer with a look of slight disdain in his eyes. He was the father Lars had never seen in childhood. His mother said that he was not aware that Lars existed. Lars’s mouth twisted unconsciously with distaste as he looked upon the face of his father.

The next picture was not an official portrait, but rather one that had been taken at some point after Heihachi Mishima had been deposed. It depicted the young CEO Kazuya Mishima and his adopted brother Lee Chaolan. The photo had been taken in the CEO’s office, with the view of Tokyo at night behind them. Judging by the uncharacteristic warmth in Kazuya’s face and slight flush in that pale skin, Lars imagined that they had been drinking before the photo was taken. Like his father, Kazuya wore a suit and held his back straight. His dark hair was shorter, and held off his face with wax. His arms were folded across his chest, and the dark brown eyes stared fiercely into the camera. Behind him stood Lee Chaolan. His silver hair shone, caught by the overhead lights of the office. He looked calmly at the photographer, with his arms by his side.

The contrast between the two never failed to capture Lars’s attention. He looked at the brothers – his brothers – for a long moment, seeking to draw out the people in the photographs. What were they doing? What were they thinking when this photo had been taken?

Even though Kazuya Mishima had only led the Zaibatsu for two years, people still spoke of his cruelty with great unease, as though any moment he would stalk through the doors of the throne room and reclaim it. He had been responsible for genetic experiments on animals, cryogenic freezing and many unspeakable horrors that were still documented in the files, those in the know said. Lars looked at those proud eyes again and felt cold all over.

Of course, Kazuya had not worked alone. Lars’s eyes drifted to Lee’s smooth unreadable face again. Kazuya had forced Lee to work as his secretary, doing all his most demeaning tasks, yet he had also entrusted Lee with some of his most secret, twisted projects. They were said to be hated rivals, yet Lars could discern no tension or dislike between the pair in their body language; on the contrary, they looked quite comfortable with each other. If Kazuya’s work was so morally objectionable, then why had Lee stuck around to do it for him?

Sometimes there were questions that didn’t have pleasant answers.

_This was the family I was born into…_

There was only one more picture on the wall. Jin Kazama looked down at him with his dark brows creased in a slight frown. He had been twenty-one when this was taken, at least four years younger than his father was in his picture. Lars’s eyes roamed over the familiar face and body. Jin wore a black shirt, cut to show off his muscular body, and matching leather trousers. His face looked so young in comparison to the other men on this wall. The resemblance to Kazuya in form was striking, but the softer lines of his face were those of his mother, Jun Kazama. Lars had seen her picture once, hidden in the Zaibatsu’s database of tournament fighters. Jin’s gaze was direct, and unafraid. His black eyes held Lars, even in two dimensions. The effect he had in person was even more pronounced.

When Jin had won the fifth tournament and taken over the Mishima Zaibatsu, there was immediate dissent from the workers at the conglomerate. They were used to the role of CEO being up for grabs in the Iron Fist tournament, and realised that theoretically, any of the competitors could win, fire them all and sell off the company. However, the only winners had been Mishimas, and Heihachi had ruled with an iron fist for the bulk of the time since the first tournament. Jin was a Mishima, of course, if not in name, but those who remembered the sullen teenager hanging around the complex several years ago were unconvinced. He was a child, they said, with no experience and would soon get bored and move on. He was too much Kazama and not enough Mishima. He was simply lacking the iron required to run the company.

The whispers died the day Jin actually showed up to claim the throne.

Striding down the path to the Zaibatsu throne, he was quietly confident and held his head high, looking every inch a Mishima prince. Lars remembered how they’d saluted him and how the whispers had started as soon as he had sprawled himself on the throne; he reminded more than a few people of young Kazuya. They were uneasy. _They were right to be_.

The sense of unease was not helped by Jin’s personality; he was quiet and spoke little, unlike his grandfather, who was always talking and laughing even as his calculating mind was plotting. _Kazuya_ , they said again, with more conviction.

Lars remembered how earlier that day he’d turned up to the Tekken Force barracks. Jin stood back, keeping a low profile, and watched as Lars led his men through their formations. Lars’s unit was fiercely devoted to him and he in turn loved them all as his brothers. Their loyalty was unquestioned and it wasn’t a surprise that Jin Kazama himself had come to watch them train. It wasn’t a surprise when he inclined this head slightly to indicate Lars should come over and talk to him. It was a surprise when Lars noticed the casual flick of Jin’s eyes as they roved up and down his body, in less than half a second, before settling on his face again. They were intense and direct.

“You’re Captain Lars Alexandersson,” Jin said.

Lars saluted, and Jin smiled a little and saluted back.

“I’ve been reading about your unit’s performance. The statistics are incredible.”

Lars beamed, and forgot to be formal. “Building a strong bond with the team is the key to our great performance. The men will go to extra lengths when they feel that sense of belonging.”

“Indeed,” Jin said, distractedly, and Lars felt that gaze on him again. He suddenly felt self-conscious in his sweaty clothes, and nearly laughed at the thought. It wasn’t as though male attention was new to him, or unwelcome. He just didn’t believe that Jin Kazama had anything so human as a sex drive.

“You’re from Sweden?” Jin asked, looking deep into his eyes.

“Yes. My father is Japanese, though.”

“You’re a long way from home.”

Lars shrugged. “I was recruited for the Tekken Force by the North European wing of the Zaibatsu, and I’d always wanted to come to Japan. I’ve been here five years now.”

“Your Japanese is excellent. Did you find your father?”

Lars didn’t pause. “Yes. He’s a bastard.”

Jin smiled. “I know what that’s like.”

They shared a comfortable silence. Lars was aware that his men had stopped what they were doing and were watching curiously.

“Come to my office after you’ve finished training,” Jin said, and this time, Lars knew he hadn’t mistaken the look trailed over his body. Jin turned and walked away, without waiting for a response, and Lars watched him go. How was he going to get out of this one?

Tougou loped over as soon as Jin had disappeared and slung a casual arm around his shoulders.

“What was that all about?”

Lars shrugged the arm off. “He wants me to meet with him after training. Didn’t say what it was about.”

“Oh come _on_ ,” Tougou scoffed. “We were all watching. He was looking at you like he was going to eat you alive!”

Lars rolled his eyes, annoyed. Tougou laughed, and slapped him on the back.

“I’m just saying…it was completely obvious! You could definitely do worse. In fact, you _have_ done worse. Several times.”

“Blatant insubordination. Give me fifty laps,” Lars replied without blinking, and Tougou grinned, highly amused, and set off without a complaint.

The next two hours of training passed, and the sky darkened. Lars called a halt to proceedings, satisfied with the day’s work. His men gathered around as he dispensed criticism and praise, and finally he clapped his hands together to dismiss them for the evening.

He was turning towards the barracks showers to wash off the sweat cooling on his skin when he remembered Jin’s summons. Tougou’s teasing came back to him, and he squared his shoulders. He was wrong. Jin probably wanted to discuss a mission with him. Other units had been going out more frequently in small groups, and his unit hadn’t been assigned to one yet. Yes, that was it. He relaxed, and focused his attention on getting the sweaty tangles out of his hair.

Freshly washed and dried, dressing in a plain black shirt and trousers, he set off for the CEO’s office. He had been there several times before, as part of a delegation that reported to Heihachi Mishima. Here was where he’d been promoted to Captain, the youngest man in the Force to hold that rank. The CEO’s office was at the very top of the main building, with a long curved window that gave an unparalleled view of Tokyo. He’d never been there at night; the view of the city lights must be spectacular.

He approached Jin’s secretary, a young woman with warm brown eyes, and gave his name.

“He’s expecting you, but he’s not finished with his previous appointment yet. You can have a seat.”

Lars did not sit, and instead focused his attention on the family photos on the wall opposite. The minutes ticked by, and the doors of Jin’s office remained shut. Voices filtered through; raised now. He picked out Nina Williams, Jin’s personal bodyguard, and Eddy Gordo, one of his right-hand men. Jin’s own voice was undetectable through the doors; he never raised it above its normal volume. Lars couldn’t make out what they were arguing about, but the disagreeable tones of their voices suggested some objection to one of Jin’s orders.

Lars wondered if he’d be voicing similar objections before the end of the evening.

The doors slid open, and Nina stalked out, catching Lars with a dismissive glance as she walked straight by without stopping. Eddy followed, frowning as he noticed Lars, and then he too was gone, striding after Nina.

“Lars.”

The use of his first name caught Lars’s attention and he turned to see Jin had actually emerged from his office and was standing just outside the doors. He had changed into a white shirt that was tucked into black leather trousers, and there was a tired look in his dark eyes.

Lars followed him into the office. The doors slid shut behind him.

Jin had his back to him. He was in front of the window, looking out at the view of Tokyo spread below him. Uncomfortable, Lars looked around. There were several leather seats arranged on each side of the room, but he didn’t feel it was appropriate to sit. Jin’s back remained to him, and Lars looked over. He was tall and broad across the shoulders, with a slim waist tapering to narrow hips and thick, muscular legs. His fists could flatten an opponent with a well-timed uppercut; his kicks could break jaws. Lars had seen him fight; he was the youngest champion ever to win the King of the Iron Fist Tournament and his body showed the results of his strenuous training regime.

Jin turned, and looked at him. His shoulders relaxed, and he looked friendlier, if still a little dead behind the eyes.

“Want a drink?”

Startled, Lars declined. Jin merely shook his head a little, smiled, and went to pour himself some whiskey into a crystal tumbler from the drinks tray on his desk. He tilted the glass to his mouth, and sipped slowly, savouring the heat and flavour. Placing the glass down on his desk, he gave a little sigh and looked at Lars again.

Yes, Tougou had been right. He was definitely interested.

“You’re still standing. Please, sit.”

Jin gestured to a comfortable looking chair right in front of his desk. He slid his long frame into his own executive chair and stretched his legs out under the desk.

Lars sat, and looked at him.

“Why am I here?”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you. I wanted to see what you were like. They say that your men are fiercely loyal to you, and I wanted to see what it was about you that made those men follow you into some of the places you’ve been.”

Lars winced, as memories of death and destruction he’d carefully suppressed flooded back, but he met Jin’s gaze.

“They’re good men. I listen to them and I help them. It matters to know that we have each other’s backs when we don’t know if we’ll survive the night.”

Jin didn’t say anything, but his dark eyes lit up with interest.

Sitting opposite him with the large desk between them, Lars felt safe to examine him candidly. Oh he was definitely attractive, without a doubt. His face was long and narrow, with smooth skin stretched over rounded cheekbones. His lips were full and plump, but it was his eyes, so dark and magnetic, that held him.

The Tekken Force lived and fought in close quarters. They knew everything about each other. They knew who got sick after too much sake. They knew who still had nightmares from their childhood.

They certainly knew the sexuality of everyone in the unit, and what their preferences were.

There were many nights, when they were flying through inky darkness and crammed into a cramped helicopter that conversations inevitably turned to sex. It wasn’t something that was a novelty. Quite the opposite; it kept everyone amused and stopped them from getting too preoccupied with the very real possibility that they wouldn’t return, or that their remains would never be recovered.

On one particular evening, they’d been flying towards a rendezvous point somewhere in the Western Urals. Lars’s group in his helicopter had exhausted their card games, and with two more hours in the air before they made camp, the men were beginning to get restless and anxious, shifting in their seats.

Lars didn’t blame them. He had seen the plans for the next day. There was a very real possibility that none of them would be returning.

So he stretched his arms over his head, yawned, and nudged Tougou sharply.

Tougou blinked, sat up straight and smirked mischievously. That was the signal to start a discussion on some mundane sexual topic. The four other men in the helicopter were new. They had been placed with Lars and Tougou, who had a decade of Tekken Force experience between them, and they were quite obviously nervous about the mission. Sometimes these base discussions played an important role in breaking the tension….or replacing it with something else.

What the men did to relieve _that_ tension once they made camp for the evening afterwards was their own business.

Lars did not involve himself in that part of it. He was their Captain; it would have been inappropriate. He prided himself on being able to maintain that distance. When he was back in Tokyo, he had numerous encounters with strangers. No names, no stories, no strings. It was all he felt he could deal with at that point.

Tougou looked around the tiny helicopter cabin and said simply “Jin Kazama.”

“Jin Kazama _what_?” responded one of the new recruits, a young man from Naru named Yamahiro. He had bold eyes and thick, dry hair cut short against his narrow face.

Tougou rolled his eyes and looked over to Lars, as if to say, _See what we have to put up with_ _?_ and returned Yamahiro’s questioning look with a smirk.

“Jin Kazama – would you fuck him? The only question worth asking. I don’t want to arrange flowers with him or listen to him talk about poetry.”

Tougou was blunt and to the point as always; Yamahiro frowned, and stared back. “I don’t fuck men.”

Another side glance to Lars; _I swear, they get worse every year._

“And I’m not suggesting the likes of you would ever get the chance to fuck Jin Kazama. Haven’t you ever had a hypothetical discussion before?”

Lars rolled his eyes. This wasn’t going to plan. The other three were exchanging confused glances.

“Tougou-”

Tougou looked at Lars then.

“Well? How about you, Captain?”

The new recruits stopped their awkward tittering, and looked at Lars curiously. He was the subject of much curiosity among the young soldiers due to his youth, his rank, and his foreign background, and they rarely got much opportunity to interact with him in this way.

Lars sighed, rolled his blue eyes at the youngsters, and gave Tougou a mocking look. “Are you really asking _me_ that question?”

“Are you saying you’ve got something to hide?” Tougou returned slyly, casting a sidelong glance of his own at the new recruits, who all laughed.

“Oh _Tougou_ ,” Lars exhaled, and clapped a solid hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Of _course_ I’d fuck him!”

“ _You_ would?!” Yamahiro stammered, before he could catch himself.

“Lars is from Sweden,” Tougou informed him. “They’re all sexual deviants there.”

Lars nodded solemnly. “It’s true, but that’s not why I said yes. I mean, I’m not blind.”

Tougou nodded. “No question at all. I’d listen to him cry about his rich boy problems all evening if he let me fuck him in that tight arse of his for five minutes. I’d fuck all the bad temper out of him and leave him begging for more!”

Lars couldn’t help it. Tougou’s bluntness always had a way of cutting right through any tension. He burst out laughing, and after a moment, everyone else joined in.

“I wonder if he likes men,” Tougou mused after they had all quietened.

“I doubt you’re his type,” someone else spoke up. Lars followed the voice. It was Watanabe, from Tokyo.

All eyes were on him now, so Watanabe puffed out his chest and kept going, emboldened by the attention.

“Don’t any of you follow the Iron Fist Tournaments? There were always rumours about him and that Korean, the one with the red hair. And my friend said he used to see him in Shinjuku a few years ago.”

“Did your friend…?”

Watanabe shook his head. “No. He liked pretty boys.”

“So that does rule you out then, Tougou!” Lars cracked, and everyone fell about the place again.

That stupid conversation had led to everyone discussing their first sexual experiences, and when the helicopter had landed, Lars had been glad to see the new recruits chatting away animatedly as they made preparations for the morning. The mission had been a blood-soaked nightmare he’d tried to blot out, but everyone in Lars’s helicopter had been there for the return trip.

Jin got up and went to the window again, and this time he beckoned Lars over too. Tokyo lay before them, glittering neon lights like jewels against the black velvet of the night sky.

“Where did you grow up?”

“Stockholm. Have you ever been?”

“No.”

Jin looked down at the lights below him.

“I grew up in Yakushima. It’s pretty remote. When I lay down at night to go to sleep, everything was black. It’s not like that in Tokyo, the city lights permeate everything, even if you’ve blocked the light out from your bedroom. You can’t see the stars here. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

This was the most he’d ever heard Jin say at once; for him, it probably constituted chattiness.

“Stockholm’s nothing like _this_ , but I understand what you mean. I was always used to the noise and lights from growing up in a city. I find it harder to sleep in darkness and complete quiet.”

“I’ve been here since I was fifteen and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”

Lars found himself caught by the note of vulnerability he heard in that quiet voice. Jin turned his head and looked directly at him.

They held each other’s eyes for a long moment, not saying anything.

Jin looked away, and went to his desk for his glass again. He drank slowly, with obvious pleasure, and Lars watched out of the corner of his eye as he darted his tongue out to lick the tiniest drop off his upper lip.

There was no denying it. The man _was_ attractive.

He was, however, also his nephew. But the more he turned that thought over in his mind, the more arguments his mind threw up against it.

How much did that matter, though? Spending time with the man was blowing all his objections to the idea away as though they were dandelion seeds in the wind. Until a couple of years ago, he hadn’t even known the man _existed_. It wasn’t as though they’d been in each other’s lives until now.

Lars asked himself if he would bring Jin home if he met him out, if he was just an anonymous man, and couldn’t deny the feelings of excitement that flooded him at the thought.

Jin had put his glass down, and was leaning against his desk, watching him.

The alcohol had stripped Jin’s gaze of its usual aloof expression; he almost looked, well, human.

“Sometimes I wonder,” Jin muttered, as if to himself, “what I’m doing here.”

Lars was curious enough to forget protocol. “Why did you take the Zaibatsu? Nobody thought you would.”

Jin’s eyes hardened briefly, before he nodded in acknowledgement of Lars’s point.

“The day my mother disappeared was the worst day of my life. Since then, my only remaining family has unleashed unspeakable evil on the world. With the power of the Zaibatsu behind me, I have the chance to right some of those wrongs and return things to how they should be.”

Lars nodded, silently wondering how the mission in the Urals had contributed to that goal. The screams still haunted him.

“It’s a lonely life for you too, isn’t it?”

Jin’s eyes were lazily looking him over as he waited for Lars’s answer.

“Yes. My unit is in the position of not knowing whether we’ll return from a mission, so that makes our bonds very intense and sometimes short-lived. They are like brothers to me. Outside the unit, there’s nobody else. I can’t handle that sort of commitment in my life knowing how it is, how it might be.”

“I see.”

Lars didn’t ask about Jin. Even if he had been stupid enough to ask that question, he already knew the answer. Jin always worked late and slept in his private quarters on the same floor. He was never seen outside the building without Nina or Eddy by his side, and there were no rumours about any involvements with anyone from the Zaibatsu. If Jin Kazama had a libido, he had suppressed it with work, lack of sleep and icy control.

“It’s a hard thing, to live like that,” Jin said, and pushed away from his desk to walk to the window again.

He stood beside Lars again and looked out at the lights, his face unreadable. Jin was close enough for Lars to pick up the scent of the whiskey he’d been drinking as well as his aftershave, something dark and dense with vetiver and cedar.

Those dark eyes turned to him, then.

“How do you cope with it?”

Lars found himself uncharacteristically flustered, but he didn’t turn his gaze.

“I go out. I meet people. Sometimes they come home with me.”

“That’s no substitute for something that lasts.”

“No, but it’s better than nothing. I could be dead tomorrow.”

It was Jin’s turn to look uncomfortable. He turned away again, the black eyes troubled.

Without looking at Lars, eyes fixed on the lights below again, he spoke.

“Tokyo is never silent, even at 4 in the morning. There’s always the hum of electricity underneath it all, the sound of the city breathing. When I lived in Yakushima, I would walk alone in the forest for hours. There was nothing except the sound of my blood in my ears and the cries of birds and animals.”

He paused.

“I told a friend of mine, from the tournaments, about it. He couldn’t understand, he’d only lived in a city his whole life. After the fourth tournament, I brought him to Yakushima, to see the forest with me.”

“Did he like it?”

“Yes,” Jin said, turning back to Lars and smiling sadly.

Lars remembered Watanabe’s mentioning of the Korean fighter, and watched Jin’s face. The alcohol had melted his usual froideur; the slight twist of the mouth and the look in those eyes was enough to understand the story of what had happened.

“You should go back there,” he said softly, deliberately leaving the statement ambiguous.

Jin shook his head.

“Not possible. He hates all _this_. We no longer speak.”

His voice was gentle, and it touched Lars. He found himself wanting to comfort this sullen, closed-off man. It was becoming more difficult for him to listen to the objections that had been at the fore of his mind previously.

He was his nephew, he was his boss, but he was also just a man, a lonely and beautiful young man. Not so very different from the men Lars went out to meet when he needed some company of his own. He wasn’t naïve; he had known where this might lead when he went up there. At any point he could get up and walk away. Jin wouldn’t stop him leaving. There was even the excuse of needing to get up early to run through some new drills with his team.

His feet remained rooted to the floor. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Jin went back to his desk and poured himself another couple of inches of whiskey; returning to his place by the window, he looked into his glass meditatively before raising his eyes to meet Lars’s as he drank.

It was not such a surprise when he put the glass down and moved right over to Lars, getting right into his personal space, placing an arm on each side of him against the window. Lars didn’t show any shock, and looked steadily into those dark eyes. Jin said nothing, but his long, hard body was centimetres away and Lars could feel the heat radiating from him in waves.

Jin leaned in and kissed him, gently. His lips were soft and tasted of whiskey; he barely parted his lips, leaving the kiss relatively chaste. Pulling back, he looked at Lars with the unspoken question in his eyes.

Lars leaned forward without hesitating and returned the kiss, opening his mouth to allow Jin to slide his hot tongue in. Jin closed the distance between them and pushed Lars back against the cool glass of the window, sliding a hand inside his shirt to stroke his nipple, teasing it until Lars moaned into his mouth. Jin pulled back from him and eyed him with clear pleasure. His pale skin was slightly flushed, and the dark eyes were wilder than Lars had ever seen them.

Lars boldly lowered his eyes to run down Jin’s body. He looked up again to see Jin’s full lips twisted in a smirk, before he pushed Lars back again and kissed him, with more aggression. Now he was grinding his erection against Lars, thick and hard against his hip, and Lars pushed his own hips towards Jin in return. Jin’s hands roamed over him, groping his arse greedily, twisting through his hair, caressing the long muscles of his back, until his skin tingled and all he wanted was the chance to remove the clothes that were in the way of those long fingers and that hot, eager tongue.

Jin broke the kiss again, and stared at him hungrily.

“I want you,” he breathed, somewhat unnecessarily.

Lars grinned. “I can tell.”

“No,” Jin replied, inclining his head, “I want to fuck you.”

Lars couldn’t resist teasing. “And if I refuse because I _always_ top?”

“Then you have training early tomorrow, and any word of this results in your former unit going on a mission to Sweden.”

Jin’s voice was low, but its tone was razor sharp, and his black eyes watched Lars carefully.

“Then it’s a good thing I enjoy it both ways, I suppose.”

Jin said nothing, but the dark eyes were amused.

He began unbuttoning his shirt, and illuminated by the neon lights of the city from outside, Lars was transfixed, because he was quite simply beautiful, with long, hard muscles covered in smooth luminous skin. His body showed the many hours of training he dedicated to it each week, and as he pulled his trousers off and kicked them off carelessly, standing naked before Lars and all of Tokyo, any objections he’d ever had simply withered away and died.

Lars fumbled with his own buttons before Jin’s long fingers caught his hands and gently pushed them away. He undid them quickly, humming with pleasure as he uncovered Lars’s body, and traced his long fingers in delicate patterns over the exposed skin. Lars shivered with pleasure at his touch, and Jin finally pulled off his trousers, leaving him naked. Jin’s gaze was shameless in its approval.

“On the desk.”

“The window…” Lars started uneasily.

“One-way glass. We can see them.”

Jin watched as Lars walked slowly over to his desk through half-lidded eyes. He was on him in a second, pushing Lars down against the cool wood of the desk, forcing Lars to part his legs to allow Jin nearer. Jin’s hand slid down and began stroking his cock, making Lars gasp at his touch. His free arm pulled Lars to him so their mouths could meet in a fierce kiss. Jin pulled away to kiss the side of Lars’s neck, bending to kiss his collarbone, his chest, before fastening his mouth on the left nipple. His tongue teased and darted at it until Lars was nearly frantic. He pushed against Jin’s firm grip, trying to encourage him to at least increase the speed of his strokes, but Jin only laughed softly as he pulled away, and stood to look down on Lars once more.

“Turn around.”

Lars turned around, his slick cock rubbing painfully against the unyielding wood of the desk, and carefully draped himself over the desk’s edge. Without saying anything further, Jin knelt behind him, spread his cheeks and began expertly tonguing him. The sensation caused him to cry out, even as Jin pulled his mouth away after a few minutes and slid in a moistened finger, stretching and moving inside him. A second finger joined it, and Lars bucked against the desk as Jin patiently slid his fingers around the tight muscles, working them in and out. He slid his middle finger against Lars’s prostate a couple of times, teasing, and Lars nearly screamed with frustration. Finally, he could stand it no more.

“Fuck me already!”

Jin stood, and Lars looked over his shoulder to see him standing there, arms folded across his chest, imposing in spite of the impressive erection he was sporting.

“Fuck me _what_?”

“Fuck me, _sir_!”

“That’s more like it,” Jin murmured. He opened the top drawer of his desk, retrieving a tube of lubricant, and carefully applied it with one hand. Moving back around before Lars, he used the same hand to part Lars’s cheeks before slowly entering him. Lars gasped as he was stretched by the thick length, which pushed against his prostate.

Jin held Lars’s hips steady as he waited for Lars to adjust to him, and then he began fucking him, with long, deep strokes. He slid a cool hand around Lars’s cock and began stroking it in tandem with his thrusts. Lars didn’t even care about the way his skin was rubbing painfully against the unyielding wood of the desk beneath him; Jin’s strokes hit his prostate perfectly every time and he was moaning and pushing back on Jin’s cock as Jin fucked him against the backdrop of the bright city below. Jin began fucking him really hard then, his muscular thighs hitting the backs of Lars’s legs, and Lars scrabbled at the smooth wood of the desk below him.

Lars cried out as he came, and Jin’s grip didn’t falter as he came hard all over Jin’s fist. Jin’s breath had become ragged, and he grunted as he thrust into Lars. He withdrew the hand around Lars’s cock and positioned both hands on Lars’s hips, to enable himself to focus on his own release. Lars looked back over his shoulder and saw Jin’s hair flopping over his forehead, damp with sweat, and those dark eyes were on him. There was something ferocious, almost savage, in their depths. Jin fastened that gaze on him as he slammed viciously into Lars and then he was coming, crying out with a choked gasp, sinking his fingers deep into Lars’s hips, filling Lars with his come, and pulling out without a word afterwards.

Jin went back to his drawer and withdrew a box of tissues, which he placed on the desk without directly offering them to Lars. Lars cleaned himself off and watched as Jin did the same, before he pulled back on his trousers and went to look out the window again.

Lars understood this to mean that he should go, and he retrieved his own clothes. Dressing in silence, his eyes wandered to the man by the window, and he saw Jin’s eyes watching him in the reflection.

It was best not to dwell on it, really. Life in the Tekken Force was precarious, and he might not return from his next mission. This was not something that should have happened, really, so it would have to be forgotten. At least his experience in the Force had given him plenty of practice in forgetting terrible events.

He was halfway to the door when Jin spoke again.

“Captain Alexandersson.”

His back was still to Lars, but his eyes were watching him in the window’s reflection.

“Sir.”

“Report here after training tomorrow. I want to know more about your techniques for bonding with your men.”

Lars smiled at the cool gaze in the glass.

“It would be an honour, sir…however, this is not what I do with my men.”

Jin turned fully, then, and locked those dark eyes on his.

“Glad to hear it. I will be expecting you, Captain.”

He turned away again, folding his arms across his bare chest as he looked out over the city below him.

Lars saluted him, and walked to the exit.

Jin waited until his footsteps had faded away, drew in a breath, closed his eyes, and let the sound of electricity fill his ears.


End file.
